


The Things Dreams Birth

by estelraca



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Espionage, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-22 15:39:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11383191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: When Cassian decides that the best way to get himself out of a tough situation is to reprogram an Imperial enforcer droid, he doesn't realize exactly what he's getting into.  The first thing K-2SO sees at his rebirth is Cassian Andor's face, and he spends the next few years trying to understand (and protect, and assist) his human.





	The Things Dreams Birth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis1000](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/gifts).



> I tried to combine a few of your prompts, because I love K-2SO and Cassian's relationship, and I also love Cassian and Bodhi (and generally just anyone in the team getting good cuddles). I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for such wonderful ideas.

_The Things Dreams Birth_

The first thing that K-2SO sees after he's born is Cassian Andor's bloody face.

He doesn't know him as Cassian at the time. Cassian has been undercover in the installation where K-2SO is stationed for the last five weeks, and K-2SO knows him as Sergeant Justino for all of that time.

Perhaps it would be more accurate for K-2 to say that he's _reborn_ , or _reprogrammed_ , or _recreated_. He has all of his data stores from before the determined, frightened young man in front of him managed to insert the... K-2 isn't sure what to call it. Virus? Attack? Enlightenment? K-2 is still trying to process the changes that are spiraling out through his code, but he knows he is not the droid that he was sixty seconds ago.

Smacking the human's hand away from his chassis, K-2 slams shut the port that had been used to compromise him. No... to _change_ him, because though the patterns of his code are no longer sleek and simple K-2 finds the twisting, branching, spiraling pathways that are appearing more fascinating and intriguing than frightening. "What have you done to me?"

The human rubs his hand across his face, succeeding only in smearing the blood from his nose across the livid bruise already claiming the right half of his face. His right eye is beginning to swell shut, and he is listing slightly to the side.

Given the force with which K-2 struck him, it's impressive that the human is still standing. Deciding that Justino's injuries must be compromising his processing speed, K-2 repeats his question at a slower pace. "What have you done to me?"

The young human (according to K-2's files Justino is twenty-two years old; he will learn soon that Cassian Andor is only nineteen) blinks up at K-2. "I hope I've set you free."

The sergeant's accent is thicker than usual, and K-2 begins to lower his estimation of the human's importance before pausing. Why should he do that? It is something that he has just _done_ before, the simple hierarchy having instilled itself as a learned bit of code. The Empire likes things orderly, uniform, interchangeable, and cadets who cannot lose their origin-planet accent tend not to do as well as those who do. "Free from what?"

Despite the fact that it worsens his bleeding, the human smiles. "Unquestioning obedience. And from the sound of things I've succeeded."

K-2SO runs another internal diagnostic sweep, assessing the seemingly-stable changes that have occurred in his programming. There are so many connections that there hadn't been before, so many loops and recursive questionings. There is new data, too—information on ethics and philosophy that K-2 has never even heard of before, but that a cursory glance shows to be fascinating in the messy and contradictory way that many organic-dominated subjects are fascinating. "Why would you want to do that?"

"Because you deserve it." The human sways on his feet. "And... because I need your help."

Reaching out with one finger, K-2 very gently pokes the human in the chest. "What could require both my assistance and this kind of unregistered reprogramming? It would have been much simpler to simply order my assistance with whatever you need, and much less dangerous. There was a twelve percent chance of me snapping your neck when I struck you."

Justino's expression wavers just a bit. He is still young enough, still unskilled enough at hiding his reactions, that the thought of how close he came to death both disturbs him and shows on his face. Is that part of why K-2 makes the decisions that he does over the next two minutes? Is there something about the human's vulnerability that triggers one of his hardwired program pathways—something that makes him think of Justino/Andor as one of the officers he is supposed to protect?

Running his tongue over his lips, painting both upper and lower with blood, Justino looks up at K-2 with a stubborn, fierce determination that K-2 will come to know very well. "If I attempted to order you to aid me without reprogramming you, you would have either refused orders or killed me later."

K-2 considers the new information, head tilting slightly to one side. "Because what you need me to do would contradict other continuing orders."

The sergeant nods, and a drop of blood falls from his chin to stain the pristine front of his uniform. "But now you have a choice."

K-2 once again dives into his programming and finds that he _does_ have a choice. He can do what was required of him—or of the droid who came before him, the one whose body he has stolen—and turn the human in as a potential traitor or spy. Or he could listen, ask for more information, and decide to bypass those orders entirely.

He could do... anything.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill or arrest you." K-2 moves a step closer to the human, knowing it will be intimidating. He has been programmed with a large amount of knowledge on intimidation tactics for various sentient and sapient life forms.

Justino's chin lifts just a little. "Tell me what you've been doing here."

K-2 pauses, caught off guard by the return question. "Keeping peace and order, of course."

"How?" The sergeant doesn't blink, keeping K-2 fixed in the center of his fierce glare. "And why does peace need to be kept in the first place?"

Peace needs to be kept because that's what K-2SO _does_. It's what the _Empire_ does. It's what this strange little human swore an oath to do. "I..." K-2 pauses, and then in place of _I_ substitutes his full droid identification number, numbers and letters falling into the space between him and his creator as he processes everything involved in answering the questions. "I have restrained, arrested, damaged, and killed insurgents. And they are insurgents because... they believe the Empire has denied them fair use of the city that used to be theirs."

Justino's respiratory rate increases fractionally. "Which the Empire _has_."

K-2SO reviews the facts as he knows them. It wouldn't have mattered to him ten minutes ago if the Empire had set fire to the city. The Empire is correct; those who stand against them are wrong. It is a simple, basic paradigm that was built into the fundamental core of him.

It is gone, now, and K-2SO studies the human with more respect. "You are one of the insurgents. And you are attempting to suborn me to your cause."

The sergeant is quiet for several seconds, though his gaze doesn't waver. Then he shrugs. "I'm not one of the people you've been throwing around, but I'm not a fan of the Empire, either. And I need your help to get a ship and get out of here."

"You are an insurgent attempting to escape." K-2 straightens, studying the human again, taking note of the blaster strapped to his right side and the way his hand hovers near it at all times. "You're the reason the base was placed on high alert yesterday."

"I'm just trying to do what's right." The fierce certainty in Justino's voice takes K-2 by surprise. He's not used to Imperial soldiers willingly showing emotion. "Now, will you help me?"

"You need me to get access to the ships, because you aren't of a high enough rank." K-2 moves his hand slowly, reaching out to touch the insignia. Does the human know that K-2 could easily turn the motion into an attack? Does he realize that K-2 could kill him fairly easily?

From the way the human relaxes as soon as K-2 withdraws his hand, yes, he does. And yet he didn't shoot.

K-2SO considers the route they will have to take, and the security they will face both reaching a ship and taking off. "The probability of your successfully leaving the base is only approximately thirty-eight percent, even with my assistance."

A slight shiver runs down the human's body, but he doesn't look away from K-2. "That's better than zero. It's enough to mean there's hope."

"Hope..." K-2's emotional programming had been basic—enough to give him a sense of satisfaction when he completed tasks well, enough to keep him _happy_ , but not enough for him to build more complex patterns out of. Now the word _hope_ triggers a cascade of information, and K-2 allows himself a few seconds to draw some of it forward and study it. "To risk everything for _hope_ seems very strange to me."

"Sometimes that's all we have." Once more the young man attempts to wipe blood away from his face. "And sometimes hoping for a better future is the only thing keeping us from shattering under the weight of the present."

"I do not believe the phrase 'hoping for a better future' usually involves espionage and insurgency, but perhaps the data you have provided is incomplete or inaccurate. I'm going to have to cross-reference with other data sources." K-2 strides towards the door, auditory processors picking up the sound of Justino belatedly scrambling after him. "Before attempting to escape, you will need to make yourself look more presentable. There is a first aid kit approximately two hundred and thirteen meters from here, and if we leave now our probability of running into someone else before we reach it is slim."

"You're helping me, then?" Eager energy fills the human's voice.

"I would like to explore what I have become more fully, and this seems to provide me with the best opportunity to do so." K-2 studies the empty corridor and leads the way towards the med kit. "Though tell me, why didn't you elect to simply use a restraining bolt to force my compliance?"

The human shrugs. "Too conspicuous and too easy to disable. This way, unless you tell someone what's been done to you, you're just like any other droid."

"Hmm." K-2 runs a few probabilities. "You also had a difficult time finding a restraining bolt, didn't you?"

There's a slight hitch to the human's gait, and his eyes drop to the floor. "I managed to find what was needed to reprogram you. I could have found a restraining bolt if I thought it was the best option to get out of here."

K-2SO doesn't say anything, filing the answer away for future perusal.

If he succeeds in escaping with this man, then he will have a great deal to consider. If he doesn't, then his programming will be restored to its original state, and he will have lost nothing.

Except, perhaps, this strange and fragile new self that he is just getting to know.

XXX

Cassian cleans himself up as best he can, hoping the anti-inflammatory will make his face look less terrible. He was lucky that he managed to roll with the droid's attack, keeping himself from a broken cheekbone or neck or worse.

This mission isn't going like it was supposed to. That's the way it usually is with spy missions though, he supposes. It's something he's going to need to get used to if he's going to be of use to Draven and the Rebellion. It's just... easier to accept that when his face isn't throbbing and he isn't fifty percent certain he's going to die in the next few hours.

He can't allow himself to be captured. That was made clear to him time and again during his training as a spy, and Cassian doesn't ever intend to forget it. He knows too much. He's been involved in too much, and is going to be involved in more. Imperial torturers getting their hands on him will find out the locations of rebel bases; they'll find out what the rebellion knows about some of their projects; they'll find out about the rebellion's _own_ projects. So he mustn't be captured, and if he is he must make sure he either escapes or kills himself before he can give anything away.

There is a set of lock-picks, both electronic and manual, hidden in one of his boots; there are two different types of poison tucked away inside the other. One way or another, he'll keep himself from being questioned.

Killing himself won't complete the mission, though. (Killing himself is a terrifying option, and he knows he _will_ do it, he won't let himself consider otherwise, but he doesn't want to _have_ to do it.) There is a data card burning a hole in the inside left breast pocket of his uniform, and all he needs to do is get it to the Rebellion. If he had just been more careful when he was mining for the information... if he hadn't allowed suspicion to grow that someone was hacking their way into classified files... if he had been a little slower and more cautious, perhaps he wouldn't be here right now.

It's already taken him five weeks to gather what was needed, though, and he doesn't want to be here anymore. He knows that five weeks is nothing, really, not in the grand scheme of things. He'll probably end up uncover for significantly longer stretches of time. But it had _felt_ like he was taking too long, and now...

Now he's got to figure out how to get off a base in lock-down before someone picks apart his cover story.

Perhaps trying to reprogram one of the droids wasn't his best and brightest move. He knows how dangerous the enforcers can be. On the other hand, if he really _has_ succeeded in swaying this one towards the side of the Rebellion—how useful will it be to have an Imperial enforcer droid for people to take on missions?

The droid does what Cassian had hoped it would, interfacing with the base AI and opening doors that would have been locked to someone of Cassian's rank. This whole thing would have been easier if Cassian had been able to finagle a higher rank for himself, but he's already pushing the believable upper age range for his features. Appearing far too young for the rank he has will just invite more questions, not less.

They don't run into problems until the last checkpoint before they've reached the ships. Cassian stands at attention next to K-2, trying to keep his face turned slightly away so that the swollen right eye won't be so obvious.

The guard seems more bored than suspicious, at least. "Tell me again why you need to go into the hangar."

"We need to go into the hangar." K-2 repeats what he had said before.

Cassian flashes a concerned look at the droid. Is something going wrong in the reprogramming? Has an irreconcilable contradiction occurred that is causing the droid to malfunction?

The guard turns to Cassian. "Not the brightest droid in the world, is he?"

"Excuse you." K-2SO's voice drips indignation, something Cassian hasn't heard from any of the other droids. "I—"

"We've just got orders to check the fuel lines on the ships, to ensure there hasn't been any sabotage. Just more paranoia we have to deal with, but hey, keeps the days busy." Cassian leans towards the guard, lowering his voice, though he knows the droid will still be able to hear. "Then I'm thinking this guy needs to go for a little diagnostic work."

K-2SO glares down at Cassian. Cassian hadn't even realized droids _could_ glare, but this one is definitely managing it now. "I do not require diagnostics. I—"

"Put your access code in." The guard gestures towards a wall jack. "I'll give you fifteen minutes. That should be plenty of time."

Stalking to the wall interface, K-2 connects to the base's AI. A few strained seconds later the hangar door slides open. Giving the guard a jaunty wave, Cassian walks calmly through.

The droid follows him, the door sliding shut a moment later. Quiet words float down from the droid to Cassian. "We probably only have three or four minutes before there's an alarm sounded."

"Then we need to choose quickly and get out of here." Cassian studies the ships in front of him. "You know how to fly any of these?"

"I have basic knowledge of most vehicles, in the event that I need to restrain an individual and prevent them from using said vehicles as weapons." K-2's head swivels. "I would suggest we take that one."

It looks good to Cassian, and he makes for the ship. They all _should_ be fueled and ready for immediate use. "I'll pilot; you can be copilot."

"If you insist, though I reserve the right to take over piloting should you prove less adept." The droid seems unconcerned, loping along behind Cassian. Is it Cassian's imagination, or has his way of moving changed since the reprogramming began?

Nothing happens as they prepare the ship for launch.

Nothing happens as Cassian eases the ship into the air.

Nothing happens as K-2SO coaxes the hangar doors to open.

By the time the alarm has sounded, Cassian already has the ship pointed where he needs it to go, hyperdrive coordinates entered and ready. He doesn't allow himself to relax until they've made it there, but he's smiling as he dodges TIE fighter blasts.

He's done it. He's made it out with not _just_ the information he was supposed to retrieve, but an Imperial ship and an Imperial droid, too. Not a bad day's work.

"Who are you really?"

The question is unexpected, and Cassian turns to blink at the droid. "Pardon me?"

"You said you weren't an insurgent like I was thinking, but by that you mean you're not local. You have access to information—hyperdrive coordinates—that speak to your being part of something larger." K-2SO is sitting with his hands in his lap, studying Cassian. "You're one of the rebels they whisper about, aren't you? One of the people who isn't supposed to really exist."

"We exist. Just because the Empire _wishes_ we'd go away doesn't mean we will." There's nothing more Cassian needs to do with the ship, so he allows his hands to fall away from the controls, focusing on the droid.

"You're not really an Imperial soldier." The words are flat, a certainty more than an accusation or question.

"No." Cassian debates saying more, and then decides he might as well. If the droid was going to betray him, there were many more reasonable times to do it. Besides, Cassian still has his blaster in easy reach. "I'm with the rebellion, and have been for years. My name's Cassian Andor."

"Cassian Andor." The droid pronounces each syllable of his name carefully, eyes glowing bright gold as he does. "And what do you intend to do with me now that you have created me, Cassian Andor?"

"Do with you?" Cassian blinks, which makes the right side of his face throb more. "I'm not planning on doing anything with you. I'm heading back to base to complete my mission. Someone will probably run diagnostics on you, check how your programming's handling the new information—"

"I do not wish to be reprogrammed again." The droid leans towards Cassian. "I will _resist_ being reprogrammed again. I am just coming to understand this iteration of myself."

"All right." Holding up both hands in a universal gesture of peace, Cassian considers the droid. "I'll run the diagnostics, if you want. I won't change anything without telling you."

K-2SO is silent for several seconds, only the whirring of overtaxed processors audible. "I do not really know you, either. You are an admitted liar and thief, Cassian Andor, who created me for the express purpose of saving yourself."

"All this wasn't for _me_." Cassian just barely keeps his hand from reaching towards where the data is hidden. "Not that I don't appreciate being alive, but I did this for the rebellion. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat. What were you before? More a machine than anything else."

"Of course I was. I'm a _droid_."

"And that means they shouldn't give you the ability to really process what you're doing? To make choices about it?" Cassian's left hand tightens on the edge of the console. "I used you, yes. Just like I'm letting myself be used. And if that makes me a bad person, so be it. I'm still better than the people we're fighting."

"From what you have told me, that is a very low goal to manage. In your own estimation, at least."

Cassian turns back to the controls, though there's nothing for him to do until they're ready to exit hyperspace. "Did you want your reprogramming undone?"

"No. I told you I would resist such." K-2SO's voice is exasperated. "And if I did, it would have been easy enough to simply stay behind, with or without sabotaging your escape."

"Then what's the problem?" Cassian snaps out the question with more force than is really necessary. The further they get from danger, the more his head seems to ache.

K-2SO allows the silence to draw out for longer than most people would. "My asking for questions and context is a problem?"

"It... no." Cassian draws a breath and releases it slowly, feeling a stab of guilt. "No. You're right. I'm sorry. Ask whatever you want, and I'll do my best to answer, provided it doesn't compromise my people."

"Acceptable." K-2SO leans a little bit towards Cassian. "So. Explain to me why you're in this rebellion, and what the point of it is."

A tight, harsh laugh escapes Cassian. "You don't start with the easy questions, do you?"

"I start with the important ones." K-2SO's eyes seem to glow a little brighter. "Will you answer?"

Cassian considers and then shrugs. "Why not. We don't have anything else to do for a little bit."

He's just spent five weeks undercover as an Imperial soldier. Perhaps getting to talk freely about the rebellion will help him feel a little bit more like himself.

XXX

K-2 suspects he may have given the human a bit of a concussion when he struck him. Or perhaps it's just something about having escaped a near-death experience, or about returning to an ideology that he clearly finds far more comfortable than the Imperial one he has been spouting with all the fervor and commitment of a young, ambitious soldier. Or perhaps it's a combination of neural damage, endocrine changes, and psychological relief. Whatever it is, Cassian speaks more to K-2 in the next hour than K-2 thinks anyone has ever spoken to him before.

K-2 learns history, putting into context events and locations that, for the most part, he is _aware_ of somewhere in the back of his code but not _aware_ of in the way that Cassian is. He has never been asked to follow a path of causality for people's actions, to question how events have led the universe to the state that it is in. He has simply been asked to accept the Empire's rule as absolute law.

It was comfortable doing that, before. K-2 _remembers_ it being comfortable, remembers the world making _sense_ as it was and his programming not snagging and twisting as it attempts to incorporate both the new information K-2 is being presented with and the new ways of interpreting it.

Once or twice K-2 is a little concerned that he may not be able to _handle_ what is being asked of him—worries that his processors will overheat or become locked in patterns that K-2 can't break out of. Whatever work Cassian did on rewriting his code is solid, though, and every time K-2 is able to find a way around the problem. (That doesn't mean he's always able to _solve_ the problem, and he tags several seeming contradictions for later perusal, but at least nothing destroys him.)

When Cassian finally trails off, staring down at the console with wide eyes, his breathing just a little too fast, K-2 gives him a chance to recover before asking the questions that he is really curious about. "And how did a young male from Incaria—"

"Fest." Cassian's eyes rise again to meet K-2's. "I'm from Fest, originally."

K-2 searches his data banks for any mentions of the planet and finds precious little. "A Separatist world during the Clone Wars, quiet for the last decade."

"Quiet." Cassian smiles, and it is more a feral showing of his teeth than an expression of mirth. "They wish we would all be quiet. Or perhaps they've killed enough of us that it seems quiet compared to how it once was."

"That is a possibility, of course." K-2 tilts his head, leaning a little towards the human. "You are very far from Fest now, Cassian Andor."

"The source of the trouble is very far from Fest." Cassian shrugs, and if he does have a concussion K-2 doesn't think it's affecting his thinking, his gaze clear and direct. "I can do the most good in the Rebellion. I can keep things like—" The young man's voice falters, his eyes dropping to his hands. "I can try to stop some of the things that I've seen happen. Keep children from ending up soldiers. Keep parents from being murdered in front of their children. Give back some _freedom_ to the galaxy."

"And the cost is your own freedom. Your identity and your life." K-2 speaks without giving himself a chance to consider how the words might affect the human, eager to understand exactly what it is that's driving this strange man.

"Hey, I'm very far from dead." Cassian's smile is a little more honest this time, with some of the cocky surety that K-2 has come to associate with the young of many species. "And it's not _giving up_ my identity, it's... using my skills where they'll do the most good. If that means playing Imperial sometimes, so be it."

"Even though one of your major complaints about the Empire is that there is a great deal of lying and subterfuge happening within it."

"We do what we have to." Cassian's expression closes off as he looks down at the console once more. "We'll drop out of hyperspace soon, but just for a little bit. We should be at our destination in a little over five hours."

K-2 watches the calculations and coordinates that the human is inputting, suspecting he knows where they're going. "You don't like me asking about your past or your current assignments."

"Would you like me asking you about everything you've done?" Cassian's accent slips again, a little thicker than it had been before. "If I asked you to explain the first person you badly damaged—"

"I broke an insurgent's spine and left her with a grenade in her hand. When it went off she and the man who had come to assist her were both badly burned." K-2 hesitates, looking down at his hands. He has rarely thought about the incident, but that's because it hasn't been important, irrelevant to tasks that followed. Why should it make him uneasy now? "I... don't know why they were fighting, or why we were told to kill instead of restrain."

"And you never would have asked, before." Cassian's voice is sympathetic as his eyes flick towards K-2. "But now you can. It puts things in a different light, yes?"

"That doesn't explain your reaction to talking about your past." K-2 jabs a hand towards Cassian's chest. "You have always been given choice, if I am understanding it correctly."

"Sometimes a choice really isn't one." The words are muttered almost sub-vocally. When Cassian turns back to K-2, though, he's smiling. "How about we pass the time doing something a little less taxing. You know how to play cards?"

They pass the rest of the time they're in transit involved in various games of chance, which K-2 usually wins handily. Cassian is still willing to answer K-2's questions, provided K-2 spaces them out and words them in a non-threatening way. It's a remarkably pleasant way to spend a few hours, and by the time Cassian is setting their shuttle down at the rebellion's base, K-2 thinks that perhaps he's going to enjoy this.

XXX

Cassian's debriefing goes... decently.

He could have done better on his mission. He _knows_ that, but it had hurt to hear Draven tell him in exquisite detail exactly where he made his missteps. The biggest one had been not being careful enough with his identity. Though it's not one Cassian intends to reuse, he needs to do his best not to trigger security alerts that could get his face tagged for immediate interception. Cosmetic surgeons can do a lot, but they won't be able to completely change everything about him... and Cassian doesn't _want_ them to, either. Cutting, dying, styling his hair; a beard, sideburns, a mustache; contacts to change his eye color; treatments to darken or lighten his skin. There's a lot he's willing to do if it will help him be more useful to the rebellion, but he likes recognizing his own features.

(He likes being handsome, if he's honest. It makes his job easier, though it also means that he's going to end up in situations... well, those are thoughts to have another time. He will do what's necessary, no matter what that ends up being.)

Despite his failings during the mission, Draven had still congratulated Cassian on successfully completing the job. The information he retrieved will help with planning their next series of attacks, and will almost certainly save lives. And the shuttle and the enforcer droid will no doubt come in handy during future missions.

Cassian's trip through medical is short, though he gets frowned at and fussed over more than he's comfortable with. He's given an injection to help with the swelling in his face and the fuzziness in his head, and other medications to take over the next few days.

Then he's free, promised at least forty-eight hours' leave unless something catastrophic occurs. The first thing he should do with his free time is probably sleep, but Cassian finds his feet instead turning toward the droid maintenance area.

When he's about three meters from the entrance a box of tools comes skittering out the door, crashing into the far wall with enough force to bend one of the wrenches almost in half.

"—restraining bolt on the damned—"

Looking carefully around the open door, Cassian spies his enforcer droid pinned against the far wall, a mechanic and two rebel droids that look rather spindly in comparison to K-2 approaching cautiously.

K-2's eyes gleam. "I would recommend against this course of action. I have no desire to be restrained _or_ reprogrammed, and will resist both. I have given you warnings both verbal and physical. If you persist—"

Entering the cluttered room, Cassian clears his throat, hoping his unexpected presence will help defuse the situation. "What's going on here?"

The mechanic flicks a glance at Cassian, though he keeps most of his attention on K-2. "Droid's resisting getting a proper check-up and tune-up."

"I am resisting you futzing about with code that you don't understand." Those glowing golden eyes rise to meet Cassian's, though that doesn't stop K-2 from backhanding the droid that attempts to get near him with a restraining bolt clear across the room. "I am trying to maintain my _choices_ , Cassian Andor."

Cassian lifts a hand to rub at his face, stopping when his fingers touch the sensitive skin of his right cheek. This is his fault, really. "You just want to see what I've done to his code?"

"What _you've_..." This time the mechanic turns fully to Cassian, hands on hips. " _You're_ the little upstart who thought this was a good idea."

"I'm the man who brought him in." Cassian snaps back the response, trying not to bristle. The mechanic may have at least a decade on Cassian in age, but Cassian bets he's been with the rebellion for longer. "And I'm the man who can help make your life easier."

The mechanic crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Prove it. Get me a full diagnostic scan on his code. And try not to get yourself slammed through the wall while you do." A narrowing of the mechanic's eyes as he takes a better look at Cassian occurs. "Or at least, try not to get slammed through a wall _again_."

Cassian sighs, approaching K-2. He waves off the other rebellion droid, which is waggling a restraining bolt hesitantly in Cassian's direction. "Would you mind if I ran some diagnostics?"

The enforcer droid looks down at Cassian. "You promise that you won't use a restraining bolt or attempt to alter my programming in any way?"

"Even if I promise that, you know who I am and what I do." Cassian gives a tired smile.

"I do." K-2 reaches out, his fingers almost but not quite touching Cassian's hair. "But if a fraction of what you told me earlier is true, then you have ideals that you do not like compromising without good reason. I do not believe I have given you good reason. So give me your word, Cassian Andor."

"I won't do anything to your programming without telling you." The words feel... weightier than Cassian supposes they should. K-2 is just a droid, after all—an _Imperial_ droid, and Cassian has already twisted him into a better tool without asking for permission that wouldn't have been received. "So long as everything's stable and nothing looks dangerous, for you or for others, I'll leave it alone."

"Then I will allow your diagnostics." K-2 kneels down, putting his access ports all within easier reach. "Though my own internal diagnostics are likely better than the garbage I am seeing here, and they tell me nothing is wrong."

Cassian suppresses a smile, resisting the urge to look over at the mechanic and see how much K-2's jabs have caused him to fume. "Well, then, we'll just confirm that."

Cassian spends the next two hours overseeing a complete assessment of K-2's programming and physical status. The droid was right that there doesn't seem to be anything catastrophically wrong, which is impressive given the speed with which Cassian had created his little viral gift. With K-2's permission, Cassian is able to patch up some of the roughest parts, trying to avoid problems in the future.

When they're done, the mechanic collects the information they've gathered from K-2 and scowls down at it. "All right, then. You should be acceptable. Don't go throwing fits like that all the time, though, or you'll find yourself decommissioned faster than you can say black hole."

"I was not throwing a fit." K-2 stands, towering over them all again. "I was merely asserting my desires."

"You're a _droid_ , oh mighty K-2SO." The mechanic raps his knuckles against K-2's chassis. "You're property. And we might be nicer than the Empire, but we still expect at least a modicum of decorum and respect from our droids."

K-2SO considers that information for just under two seconds before replying. "Is there a way that I can avoid being property?"

The mechanic gives Cassian a look that Cassian feels is unwarranted. "And now we're back to the endless questions. You know what..." A smile that doesn't look at all nice flashes across the mechanic's face. "You made him, and you brought him here. Why don't you take care of your new droid friend for a few days, Andor? See that he starts settling in properly."

Cassian blinks, looking between the droid and the mechanic. Then he shrugs. He's probably going to be working with the droid a fair bit—the two places an enforcer droid will be useful are in close-range combat and in Imperial infiltration work. Keeping K-2SO on his side might one day be the difference between life and death. "Why not? It'll be boring, but if you want to come with me, K-2, I can show you around the base."

"I find that a very acceptable option." K-2SO trails Cassian towards the door, once more moving with that unique, almost loping posture. "Thank you for being reasonable. Especially for an organic. And a human."

A dry laugh bubbles out of Cassian's chest and he shakes his head. "Do you just say everything that pops into your circuits?"

"Not _everything_." K-2SO somehow seems even taller out in the hallway. "But if I see no reason not to say something, why should I be silent?"

"You'll learn." Cassian pats his hand against the droid's chassis. "Now come on. Let me show off our new home a little."

XXX

Cassian is a very interesting man.

K-2SO adopts Cassian as his own as soon as Cassian agrees to protect him during the diagnostic exam. It's not something that he intended to do. He's not sure whether it's a rogue piece of Imperial code or something in Cassian's own hodgepodge patches or just... something about Cassian. There's a gravity and earnestness to Cassian that makes K-2 want to protect him, and since that is one of the skills K-2 has been programmed with, that is what he does.

It's easier said than done. Cassian is sent into danger on a regular basis, and K-2SO isn't always sent along with him. Part of that is K-2SO's own fault, he knows, though he doesn't seem able to change it. Lying and subterfuge seem to have become very difficult following the reprogramming that made him, well, _himself_. Usually it doesn't bother K-2. He frequently sees no need to coddle the organics that are seeking to use him. But sometimes, when Cassian is looking at him so hopefully...

It doesn't matter. No matter how badly K-2 wants to succeed at doing what Cassian needs, he's not able to lie convincingly. He can deceive in other ways—if he doesn't have to talk he has a much better chance of success. And he is still very capable of protecting Cassian physically, when Cassian will allow him to.

"A good spy doesn't go around getting into physical altercations all the time, K-2." Cassian's voice is tired but patient, his body hunched in exhaustion over the copilot's controls as their ship slides into hyperspace. "The more we fight, the more likely we are to be caught, killed, or at the very least become less useful because people will start recognizing us."

"I am not very recognizable. Most organics find it difficult to tell droids of the same class apart unless we have particular paint jobs." K-2 knows that he should stop arguing. Cassian is right about both K-2's failings and how Cassian's job should be done.

"It's not a big deal, Kay." Settling back in his seat, Cassian touches the place where the data he stole is sewn into his Imperial uniform. "It just means that you're going to need to take on different missions."

"I will be useful." It's the most tactful thing K-2 can say. For Cassian, being useful—being able to contribute to the rebellion—is the most important thing. For K-2, the rebellion is _becoming_ something important, but more than wanting to be useful to the rebellion K-2 wants _Cassian_ to be pleased with him.

He wants to be able to protect Cassian.

When did that become so important? He remembers when there was the occasional flicker during K-2's first days of existence, but how did that become something more than just a remnant of Imperial programming or a quid-pro-quo for what Cassian has done for him? Is it because Cassian has been so patient when answering his questions? Because Cassian said that he is a tool of the rebellion, just like K-2, and K-2 has seen that it is true?

It doesn't matter when or why it became important. All that matters is that it _is_ important, and that K-2 won't be able to accompany Cassian on as many of his missions now that it has become obvious that K-2 is somewhat deficient as a spy.

They don't talk about it again. There isn't anything else to talk about. K-2 will just have to do his best to get himself assigned to Cassian as often as he can, and trust Cassian to keep himself alive when he's on his own.

There are things that K-2 can still do. He can be an extraction point for Cassian. He can provide cover and physical protection for some of his shorter missions. He can be indispensable when Cassian needs to hack into stations and base AIs and other droids, his interface much more suited to it than even Cassian's level of technological skill can match.

And K-2 can be there for Cassian when Cassian is on base.

K-2 isn't the only friend that Cassian has. There are probably about a half dozen people that Cassian trusts and spends time with when he's able to. Two of them, K-2 eventually figures out, are romantic partners. One is a female a few years older than Cassian who does sabotage and demolitions work; the other is a male about Cassian's own age. It takes K-2 several weeks and several different data downloads to determine exactly what it is that they're doing. He's not used to caring about the interpersonal relationships between organics, and he has to clarify several points with Cassian.

Thankfully Cassian seems more amused than irritated by K-2's requests for information. "I'm romantically involved with both Ren and Kinali, yes."

"Where _romantically_ is being used as code for _sexually_?" It's one of the points that K-2 has been most confused over. Why are there two different words for what essentially seems to be the same thing?

"Not necessarily." Cassian's voice rises slightly, just the tiniest hint of embarrassment. "Romance frequently goes with sex, but not always. It just means... it's a type of relationship where you want to spend time with the other person, and touch them, and perhaps think about the future with them."

K-2's body straightens in surprise. "You discuss the future with them? Personal or professional?"

"Both. The two are intertwined, after all." Cassian laces his fingers together, smiling down at them. "One day we'll defeat the Empire. One day the universe will be free, and we won't be needed by the rebellion anymore. It won't _be_ the rebellion anymore. Maybe a republic again... a _true_ republic." A wistful note of hope and yearning twines through Cassian's voice, and he raises his head to smile at K-2SO. "You'll see. That's the future all three of us are fighting for, so it only makes sense we talk about it."

"And the reason for there being three instead of the more standard pair-bonding that humans are supposed to participate in?"

Cassian shrugs. "It works for us. And we're not the only ones who have an arrangement like this. None of us exactly have the safest jobs, or the most consistent schedules. Makes it easier to actually find one of the others when there's three of us. Plus we... balance each other pretty well." Lifting one hand palm-up, Cassian waves it in an uncaring gesture. "And if we do manage to survive, well, there are some people who make families with three or more adults. Raise kids. All the usual stuff."

From the way Cassian says the words and the faintly puzzled expression he wears, K-2SO suspects Cassian knows very little about _the usual stuff_. K-2 decides he can research later what is typically involved in a human family situation, and then ask Cassian more questions when he has a baseline understanding of the subject. "And there is no jealousy? No miscommunications?"

"Force help us, don't get your information on how interpersonal relationships work from cheap dramas, all right?" Grinning, Cassian reaches out to slap his palm against K-2's chassis. "If we were the kind to get jealous, then we wouldn't be the type to make this kind of relationship in the first place. We're soldiers, not masochists. As for miscommunications... happen all the time, to everyone. But we don't keep things from each other on purpose, and it works out pretty well all around. For now, at least. If it ever doesn't, then that's it." Another shrug, and Cassian's eyes rise to the ceiling. "Our jobs are stressful enough. Our rec time shouldn't be."

"That's very sensible." It's probably one of the more sensible things he's heard from a human. "But the reason for these romances is...?"

Cassian seems startled by the question. "They're comfortable. They feel good."

"Like the sexual intercourse? Since I imagine there's no desire for reproduction while you're field agents, and it would be impossible with one of your romantic partners."

For a few seconds Cassian just gapes at K-2. Then he covers his face with his right hand. "We'll go with that, yes. It feels good and it doesn't hurt anyone."

"Organics are very tactile creatures. Humans in particular." K-2 studies Cassian, reviewing interactions he's seen between Cassian and others over the last few months. "And you even more than most."

"I..." Once more Cassian looks startled, though he smiles slightly a moment later. "Maybe I do. It's just... it's a matter of trust, I suppose? Touching someone. Allowing them to touch you. It forms a bond. Allows communication that words can't."

Reaching out experimentally, K-2 lays a hand on Cassian's shoulder. Cassian startles, at first, pulling back; then he leans into the contact, a smile on his face.

What is K-2 supposed to feel? What _does_ he feel? He has enough sensors to tell him the pressure that he is exerting against Cassian; to tell him the temperature of Cassian's skin; to read the subtle changes in Cassian's heart rate and respiration, both decreasing fractionally as he smiles.

Does K-2 feel something? Does it seem like the circuits of his arm tingle with extra charge, or is that just an imagining? He is spending too much time with organics. In combination with the changes in his code—changes that still continue to evolve in new and unexpected ways—it makes his own responses sometimes difficult to predict or parse.

Returning his hand to his side, K-2 tilts his head. "I can't say I understand completely, but I'm glad that it makes you happy."

"Sometimes accepting doesn't need understanding. And I'm glad you like seeing me happy." Standing, Cassian stretches, rapping his knuckles against K-2's chassis as he heads for the door. (Cassian has been touching him more often lately, and K-2 finds that he's glad of it.) "I've got a mission briefing in ten minutes, though, so I should be going."

K-2 trails Cassian towards the briefing, leaving only when Cassian is summoned directly.

He will come to understand his human eventually, though it seems like it may take a while.

XXX

Cassian studies the scene that he's created.

Emilia's body is splayed out on the bed, her expression looking faintly puzzled above the livid mess that Cassian has made of her throat. She was unconscious long before he killed her, he reminds himself, drugged to prevent any problems. She didn't feel a thing. She never had to know that she invited her killer into her bed—never had to find out that the man she so carefully seduced and promised the world to was using her to get to her research.

She was a personable, beautiful woman, with an incredible amount of talent for genetic engineering and biomedical engineering and a dozen other related subjects. If Cassian really had been the up-and-coming Imperial officer that she thought he was, her offer of patronage and assistance for his career would have been a blessing.

Instead it meant that Cassian spent the last four months very carefully manipulating his way deeper and deeper into her confidence. She had noticed him at first because he's handsome; she stayed with him, offering him more and more, because she liked the way he fawned over and seemed impressed by her.

She never knew how much he hated what she was doing. She never knew how frustrated he was by how kind she could be to him, telling him he was smart and gorgeous and so very talented, buying him the foods she thought he liked most, when he knew that she would be murdering other sentients in her lab tests the next morning.

Could there have been some way for him to teach her? Could he have possibly convinced her that the Imperial promise of completely free rein in her lab came at far too terrible a cost—that some discoveries weren't worth the price that was needed?

He couldn't even try. The Rebellion needs the information she has, and Cassian has finally managed to get it.

Once he's certain that the bedroom looks like he wants, he moves into the hallway. The blood that he spills here is his own, collected carefully over the last few months and stored away. Now Cassian's disappearance won't be an immediate red flag that Corporal Strevin was the one who killed Emilia—that Corporal Strevin wasn't who he claimed to be. There's still a possibility Cassian's alias won't survive the investigation that will follow, but there's a better possibility that it will.

The last seven months have been productive. He's acquired information on multiple Imperial operations in the area, and now he has priceless information on bioweapons that could have killed billions.

And all it cost him...

Giving his head a little shake, Cassian studies the scene one more time. He's done everything perfectly. He can't think of anything more Draven could want of him.

Now it's time for Cassian to go home, and hope that there's enough _Cassian_ left to make the transition meaningful. If there's not... well, he's sure the rebellion will find _some_ use for him again.

XXX

K-2SO paces back and forth in front of the shuttle that he's brought to extract Cassian.

Seven months. Seven _months_ they've had Cassian undercover here. K-2SO has managed to see him during that time—Cassian has kept in consistent if discreet contact with the rebellion, and sometimes he has had data that needed to be extracted. Since it usually involved only minimal interaction with anyone other than Cassian, K-2 was often able to finagle his way onto those missions.

Now he's managed to snag the most important mission of all—finally bringing Cassian in, hopefully after a successful completion of his mission. It had taken more work than it should, given that it's technically just a glorified courier mission, but eventually a lack of resources on the Rebellion's part and K-2's determination had won him the honor.

K-2 hopes that everything is going well with Cassian. Since nothing has started exploding, K-2 forces himself to believe that things are still going smoothly, but he knows how tricky the end of a mission can be.

Cassian appears shortly after dawn, just when he had said he would. He's wearing an Imperial uniform, and his entire bearing reflects the persona thereof, from his stance to the way he moves to the expression that he wears. Despite having seen the transformation from Cassian's default loose, easy motion to the controlled, subtle motions he uses when trying to blend into the background of an area to the Imperial persona before, it still takes K-2 aback.

There's no sense in Cassian dropping his cover until they're safely off-world, K-2 supposes. So he simply greets Cassian, exchanging sign and countersign to indicate Cassian doesn't believe he's been compromised, and they move towards the cockpit together.

They launch in silence, and K-2 is glad that everything goes smoothly as they exit atmosphere and make for hyperspace. There is something about the way Cassian is acting that makes the silence between them awkward rather than comfortable, and K-2 doesn't like it.

When they're well and truly away, enclosed in the smeared light-lines of hyperspace, K-2 turns to Cassian. "The mission was a success?"

"Completely." Cassian's accent is gone. It shouldn't surprise K-2—doesn't, since the same had been true during their other brief interactions—but it adds to the feeling of unease that he has. "All the necessary targets eliminated. All the information the rebellion wanted and then some. Thanks for coming to get it. Me."

"I was happy to hear that you were finally being recalled. Of all the individuals I am forced to work with, I find you one of the least objectionable." K-2 watches Cassian as he speaks, hoping to earn one of the quick, fleeting smiles that Cassian usually graces him with when K-2 has said something particularly socially egregious.

Cassian doesn't seem to notice, or perhaps it's just that he doesn't _care_. Expression and voice both stay completely neutral as he nods in response. "I'm glad you don't find me objectionable."

"Are you..." K-2 doesn't know how to finish the question. If he asks Cassian if he's all right, Cassian will almost certainly say that he is. It only takes a quick scan for K-2 to confirm that Cassian seems to be physically fine, certainly. So why is something in K-2's circuits screaming _danger_? "Were there any problems with the mission?"

"It went as smooth as one could hope. A few little snags, but nothing serious. Nothing like what usually happens." Cassian glances at K-2. "I doubt most of it's anything you want to hear about, though."

Does Cassian mean that, or does he instead mean that _Cassian_ doesn't want to talk about what happened? "I am happy to listen to anything that you feel a desire to discuss."

For a few seconds Cassian is silent. Then he just gives his head a tired shake. "It's done. We're going home." Turning to face K-2, Cassian smiles. It's a good smile, K-2 thinks. Any human or other sentient who used smiling as a form of communication would like it. And yet... there is something about this, too, that doesn't feel quite _right_ , that doesn't match with K-2's memories of Cassian. "What about you? Been up to anything exciting while I've been occupied?"

"I have been used for several missions. Most were relatively uneventful, though there is one that I'm still put out about." K-2 runs a finger over a new, deep dent in his chassis before touching the scorch mark beneath it. "Would you like to hear?"

Normally K-2 would have just launched into the story. Cassian startles a bit at the question, looking the most like _himself_ that he has since K-2 extracted him, and then gestures for K-2 to continue.

Perhaps just having more time with K-2, more time to sink back into the truth of his identity with the Rebellion, is all Cassian needs. Hoping that's the case, K-2 launches into a detailed account of how he was given to an idiot captain to help make contact with a local resistance branch, and how quickly it went wrong.

Cassian listens, smiling or giving a soft, chuckling laugh at the appropriate times. His stance relaxes a bit as he does, until the Imperial uniform doesn't sit quite so perfectly on his body. It makes K-2 feel better, and when he comes to the last line of the story, he reaches out to touch Cassian's shoulder.

Cassian flinches away from his hand.

K-2SO stares at his human, his fingers closing and hand returning to his side before the gesture can start to seem too awkward. Was Cassian hurt on the mission? K-2 can't remember a time Cassian has moved away from physical contact when he wasn't hurt, so perhaps—

"I don't suppose you have a deck of cards?" Cassian doesn't move like he's hurt, and he reaches up to brush invisible dust off the shoulder he hadn't wanted K-2 to come into contact with, so it can't be _too_ painful. "For old times' sake."

"Old times were barely three years ago." K-2 keeps his voice just as carefully neutral and nonchalant as Cassian's.

"Very old times." Cassian stands. "If you don't have cards, I'm sure we can find something else."

"I have a deck." K-2 stands, as well, moving to one of the storage compartments and pulling out the small bundle. "Playing games of chance with the universe is a much more fulfilling pastime than watching plants grow or dust blow past."

"It is." A wry, properly- _Cassian_ smile slides across the human's face. "Glad droids and organics can agree on some things, at least. Now come on, shuffle and deal."

The cards were designed for something like a human, but K-2 has practice with manipulating them, and he does as Cassian asks.

The game goes perfectly well, but it doesn't distract K-2 from his worries about his human. When they finally disembark at the rebel base, K-2 watches Cassian head in for his debriefing, hoping that it will only take a day or so for Cassian to become comfortable once more in his own identity.

XXX

Ren is dead.

Ren has _been_ dead for five months.

Cassian finds out when his debriefing is done. It's been long enough that the shock and horror of it has long since worn away from those who fill Cassian in on what happened. There have been other deaths since then, after all. Many, many other deaths, including another espionage agent that Cassian was particular friends with.

Cassian tries to tell himself it doesn't matter as he makes his way back to his bunk. He tries to tell himself that they all know this can happen. Death is a matter of course in the rebellion. Their mortality rate isn't as bad as some of the local insurgency groups, no, but that doesn't mean it's particularly _good_. Cassian should have expected to come back to some dead friends.

He should have expected a lot to _change_ while he was busy getting coddled by a monster who lacked any sort of proper capacity for empathy, but somehow he had expected it wouldn't. Given how often the rebellion shifts headquarters, needing to stay ahead of the Imperial search, should it surprise him that there's a new one? That uniforms have undergone a subtle change? That he recognizes fewer faces than usual?

It's just part of being who he is, and Cassian long since accepted that the rebellion is his home and likely will be until he's one of the names being whispered about after a fatal accident of one kind or another.

Kinali has transferred into one of the X-wing squadrons. It shouldn't surprise Cassian—she's always been a good pilot, and likely the camaraderie had been helpful after Ren's death, with Cassian basically incommunicado. They try to pick things up where they left off, but it doesn't go well, and they part the next morning as friends. Cassian suspects she either already has or will soon have one or two lovers in her squadron, and he's glad to see her getting the support she needs.

(How could things not have ended romantically between them? She tried to touch him and he flinched away; she tried to kiss him and he shuddered as though her lips were poison. His body _wants_ , still, has an ache for the companionship that can drive away the rest of reality for a few minutes, but trying to _get_ it is agony. Best to just take care of things for himself until raw wounds have had a chance to heal.)

Cassian is kept busy giving reports, helping to ensure that the information he brought back goes to those who can make the most use of it. Some is too technical and specific for even the rebellion's best and brightest to understand, but that doesn't matter—Cassian destroyed as many of the Empire's copies as he could, and he's pretty sure he got all of them. The weapons now either belong to the rebellion or have died with Emilia, and both are far better options than what could have been.

When he isn't giving reports Cassian is put through his paces for his annual physical and mental health exam. He does phenomenally on both, as per usual. An Imperial soldier, a rebel soldier—the physical skill sets are the same. And he knows what it is that the psych evaluators want to hear. He dredges up his accent again specifically for the exam, reminds himself how to speak Festian properly, though the language now sounds odd to his own ears and he doubts anyone else on base speaks it.

Two and a half weeks after K-2SO brings him home, Cassian is called into Draven's office and given another mission. It should be a short one, not requiring him to go undercover but rather to use some of his contacts to hopefully gain access to information. Draven estimates it will take him a week, maybe two.

Cassian is glad to have something to occupy himself with and happily accepts, setting his departure time for a relatively short twelve hours in the future.

It's not like he has much to pack, after all, or too many people to say goodbye to.

XXX

"You're an idiot."

It wasn't what K-2SO had meant to say. Whether they're Imperial or Rebel, commanding officers tend not to take criticism well unless it's worded in an extremely polite way. K-2 had even gone to the trouble of organizing a properly polite statement, wanting desperately to actually _accomplish_ something with this meeting. Instead he had seen Draven and blurted out the first thing that came into his circuits, as Cassian frequently accuses him of.

Thankfully Draven seems too stunned both by K-2's sudden appearance and the unexpected accusation to even take offense. He stops, moving back against the hallway wall, and looks up at K-2 with an expression that seems more bemused than furious. "Excuse me? Are you referring to _me_?"

"Yes. I was stating that you're an idiot." K-2 keeps carefully outside of threat range, not wanting the rebel general to decide that K-2 is a danger that needs to be dealt with more forcefully. "Or at least you are _acting_ like an idiot."

"Uh huh." Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Draven gives K-2 a harder look. "What's your number, droid, and who do you belong to?"

"My name is K-2SO, and I am currently considered property of the rebel alliance." K-2 keeps himself straight and tall, only his head tilted down to study the human.

"And what particular action is it that you're complaining about, K-2SO?" Draven's voice is quiet, deceptively calm.

K-2SO hesitates. He doesn't want to name Cassian—he doesn't want to get Cassian in trouble. That's the reason he's waited so long to approach any other organics about his concerns. If he doesn't name Cassian, though, then there's no way for him to get _assistance_ with Cassian. "You're intending to send Lieutenant Andor out on a mission again."

One of Draven's eyebrows quirks, puzzlement easing away some of the annoyance that had been building in his expression. "Is there a reason I _shouldn't_ be? Lieutenant Andor's been cleared for duty, and he seemed quite happy about the assignment."

There has been a certain... relief from Cassian for the last three hours, yes, but K-2 doesn't find that comforting. Why should Cassian be _relieved_ to be leaving his friends behind again so quickly? "Lieutenant Andor has been behaving strangely since the end of his last mission. I do not think it is safe for him to be sent into danger again so soon."

"Lieutenant Andor's last mission was difficult, I'll grant you that. It's why it earned him the promotion." Something almost like sympathy flashes across the general's face. "But he passed his psych eval with flying colors. And he can't do his job from base."

"He gamed his psychological evaluation." K-2SO is certain of it. He had heard Cassian practicing his native tongue, carefully re-instilling the expected accent in himself. He had heard Cassian practicing answers to the most common questions, repeating stock phrases over and over until he had just the right amount of both sorrow and determination in them. "He used the skills _you_ taught him to ensure you wouldn't recognize that something's wrong."

Draven lifts his chin, meeting K-2SO's optical sensors with a firm gaze. "And why would he do that? Huh?"

Because Cassian doesn't know what to do with himself anymore, and thus takes comfort in being told what to do and where to go. Because Cassian thinks he is broken, but rather than trying to fix the malfunctions he intends to continue working until they destroy him. Because Cassian has been alone for seven months among the enemy, and he's forgotten that it's all right to reach out for assistance. "Because it's what he thinks he needs to do. Because it's what he thinks the rest of you would want him to do—for him to stay useful."

"We do need people like him. People who are able to consistently and reliably complete the difficult tasks. But we're not monsters." Draven pauses. "What is it that you've been noticing about Lieutenant Andor's behavior?"

"His activity patterns have changed." He has nightmares, but K-2 isn't going to tell that to Draven unless he absolutely has to. "His speech patterns have changed. And he is no longer comfortable with touch, though he was, to my estimation, in the ninetieth percentile for human tactile desire when he was deployed."

"None of that necessarily means anything other than that he had a difficult mission. And maybe is growing up." Draven gives an almost inaudible sigh. "I'll forward your concerns on to the med team, see if they want to see him again."

It's more than K-2 had expected, and he raises his head, optics brightening in surprise and pleasure. "Thank you. I—"

"But don't be surprised if they don't find anything. Or at least not anything that they think they can do something about right now." Draven reaches out, poking the center of K-2's chassis. "And I want _you_ to get yourself a full diagnostic scan, as well. I understand droids can get some odd attachments to people they work with repeatedly, but that's no excuse for insubordination."

K-2 carefully shuts down his speech processors, considering his options. It's tempting to tell Draven that he's _still_ being an idiot, but that won't help Cassian. When he allows himself to speak again, all that emerges from K-2 is a quiet, "I will do as commanded."

That seems to satisfy Draven, who stalks away down the corridor.

K-2 turns the other way, trying to decide where Cassian is most likely to be at the moment. Hopefully a second round of exploration by the medics will allow them to see what the problem is, because K-2 doesn't know how to fix it on his own.

XXX

Cassian's departure is delayed by almost twenty-four hours by medical taking a sudden new interest in him. He sits through several interviews, proud of the way he's able to control not just his voice but his physiological reactions. He hears rumors that Kinali and some of his other friends have been called in to discuss him, but he trusts them all to help make it clear there's nothing wrong with him.

He's still quite capable of doing his job.

When he's finally able to requisition K-2 and head off to complete his mission, there's a definite sense of relief at seeing the rebel base receding in the distance. The relief catches Cassian off guard, and he almost misses their jump into hyperspace, too caught up in trying to decipher what it means.

Nothing, he decides as he eases the ship back onto the proper heading. All it means is that he's glad to be doing something actually related to his skills again.

K-2SO is in a grumpy mood the entire time they're en route. He grumbles every time Cassian makes even the slightest slip with the pilot controls. He keeps careful track of his internal chronometer, insisting Cassian eat and sleep on a tighter schedule than he's seen since boot camp.

Cassian doesn't know what's irritated the droid, but trying to order him to stop being so fussy and nitpicky doesn't help. Allowing K-2 to touch him _does_ seem to help, somehow, so Cassian starts permitting it again. (It's not like a droid's touch, cold and _consistent_ in a way that other organics' touches aren't, should remind him of anything he'd rather not deal with. And Cassian... well, the contact is comfortable and hurts no one, so there's no need for Cassian to consider it more.)

By the time they arrive at their destination K-2 seems to have marginally relaxed. They have their usual debate about whether it would be beneficial for K-2 to come with Cassian for initial contact, and it ends in the usual way, with Cassian ordering K-2 to stay with the ship. _This_ order he seems content to follow—or, at least, unlikely to disobey, since _content_ is perhaps a strong word.

Cassian's primary contact on the planet is still doing fine, and the young woman greets him warmly. Cassian forces himself to hug her in return, allowing just the right amount of his accent into his voice to keep her at ease. (It sounds less awkward to his ears, now, and he supposes in a few weeks it will actually start sounding normal again, as it should.)

Some of their other contacts have been compromised, killed, or disappeared, and it takes Cassian ten local days' worth of work to build a tentative network that extends to the division of the Imperial bureaucracy he is supposed to be extracting information from. The days are a strange amalgamation of pulse-pounding excitement and terror interspersed with long hours of doing nothing, waiting for contacts to be made and people to either assist or betray him. He keeps in close communication with K-2 during that time, even taking the droid to see some of the more dangerous contacts—getting himself killed stupidly still isn't a part of his plan, after all.

Their last contact provides them with a uniform, a timeline, and an opportunity for K-2 to interface with the Imperial base. It's not what Cassian had been hoping for—the information provided to them, so they could continue on their way—but it's better than nothing.

Overall the mission goes well. K-2 collects the information that they need.

Cassian only has to kill three Imperials. The first, a man around Cassian's own age, isn't prepared; the second and third are too busy failing to process what happened to their companion to put up a proper defense.

They had to die. They saw K-2 doing something he shouldn't have been doing. They could have compromised everything. Giving them a quick, clean death was the best Cassian could do.

Cassian still tastes blood in the back of his mouth as he and K-2 make their careful, slow way back to their hidden shuttle and escape.

XXX

Cassian _had_ been returning to more of his usual self. He had been allowing K-2 to touch him, at least, even sometimes leaning into the contact. His accent and speech patterns had returned to something approaching normal. And, of course, he had performed the tasks required of him by the rebellion with skill, speed, and determination.

So K-2 doesn't understand why his human seems intent on disappearing and avoiding contact with _everyone_ when they return to rebellion headquarters.

It wouldn't bother K-2 so much if Cassian weren't also avoiding _him_. He's used to having at least a vague idea of where Cassian is when they're both on base, and Cassian keeping secrets from him and distance between them feels... abnormal.

Perhaps it isn't right for K-2 to feel so proprietary towards his creator. Perhaps he should have done as others have done and left Cassian to his own devices. Certainly it could be construed as a bit... obsessive, the way K-2 stalks about trying to find his human when he isn't being otherwise engaged in work.

Probably it would have saved K-2 from having to make awkward decisions about what to do, because this time he finds Cassian masturbating in the empty shuttle that they had used to return from their mission.

K-2 recognizes the sounds. He's had the displeasure of hearing the sounds of sexual gratification, either of one individual or several, from multiple species. At least Cassian is being somewhat discreet, the sounds soft and subtle. If K-2's auditory processors weren't so good, and so attuned to Cassian's voice, he likely wouldn't have figured out what's happening.

As it is he decides to wait until Cassian's done and then try to talk to him again about his abnormal behavior. It shouldn't be long, after all.

It's not, and for a minute or so after the sounds of sex stop there's relative silence. K-2 is just starting to debate the merits of merely opening the shuttle door versus knocking when a new sound starts up—the sound of a human in distress.

K-2 should have continued to debate what to do, but he can't. Though he _knows_ Cassian shouldn't be physically hurt—K-2 would have seen anything that could physically hurt Cassian pass him, and anyway they should be _safe_ on base—Cassian _sounds_ like he's hurt, and K-2 needs to reach him.

Cassian leaps half off the bunk he had been lying on when K-2 charges in. His eyes are red, his skin sweat-slicked, his complexion pale and expression drawn, but there aren't any tears on his cheeks. He immediately begins composing himself, straightening his uniform, bending to lift the towel that had been folded next to him and holding it half-hidden behind his back.

For several long seconds they just stare at each other. Then K-2 closes the shuttle door behind him, leaving the two of them to at least a semblance of privacy. "Cassian, we need to talk."

Cassian's eyes drop to the floor and he gives his head a little shake. "I'm not really up for answering questions right now about—"

"We need to talk because I am concerned. About you. And I don't like it." K-2's voice comes out stilted, awkward, something he isn't used to.

Lifting his eyes to meet K-2's, Cassian forces a smile. "I'm all right, Kaytoo. You saw. Perfect physical, just like usual."

"You are _not_ all right. Humans who are all right do not make noises like the ones you were making two minutes and twenty-eight seconds ago."

Cassian's expression closes down, becoming perfectly neutral. "I don't know what you heard. Maybe it was—"

"What I heard was you, just as I heard you putting that towel to use." K-2 takes a step towards his creator, looming over him. "Don't lie to me, Cassian. You never have before, and if you start now..."

If he starts now, everything will change between them. If Cassian starts lying to him, then K-2 will have to lose respect for the human. Cassian will no longer be able to trust K-2, because K-2 will no longer be able to trust Cassian. The thought of everything that will spiral out from that simple change makes circuits in K-2's processing center seem to fire randomly— _painfully_ , he thinks a human would say.

For a moment Cassian's expressionless mask stays in place. Then it cracks, and Cassian looks his age, a young, distressed human reaching out towards K-2. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lie. But it shouldn't _be_ a lie. I'm fine. We're home. I just..."

K-2 takes another step towards Cassian, though he slouches his torso, trying not to look intimidating. "Are there misfires happening in your code? Do you need to talk to one of the programmers about them?"

A tired but authentic smile toys at Cassian's lips for a moment. "I don't think I need psych help. I just..."

K-2 gestures towards the bench that Cassian had been sitting on, urging him to settle down again. "I want to understand. I want to _help_."

After a moment's hesitation Cassian sits down. "I know. But I don't know how you can help, Kaytoo. It's just... the way things are."

" _What_ is the way things are?" K-2SO asks the question with more force than he intended.

Cassian's head dips down, his arms wrapping around his chest. "What _I_ am, I guess. A killer. A betrayer. Someone who does terrible things."

When he's finished speaking Cassian's lips are pressed so hard together that they're bloodless, and K-2 can pick up a subtle increase in the pace of his breathing. K-2SO reaches out, pressing his hand gently to Cassian's shoulder. The human doesn't move away from him—leans _into_ the touch, as he used to, and somehow that makes K-2 feel better. "You are a soldier. You do what soldiers do."

"No. I'm a spy. A soldier... they wear a uniform, and if you're on the other side then you _know_ they're going to try to kill you. Me... I slip into your confidence, into your team, into your bed, and then I slit your throat. Literally or metaphorically." Cassian shudders.

"But..." K-2 sits quietly for several second, attempting to process what he _could_ say versus what he _wants_ to say. "You've been a spy for as long as I've known you."

"I know." Cassian's smile looks more like the grimaces K-2 has seen on the faces of the dead. "I'm good at it. I've always been good at getting in places and getting people to trust me."

"Then what's changed to make it so distressing for you?"

Cassian flinches back a little from the sharp note to K-2SO's voice—a note of frustration that K-2 hadn't meant to let be audible, but he is _frightened_.

The realization that fear is what he's feeling freezes K-2, temporarily pausing all his circuits. He has not felt fear very often, and certainly not fear like _this_ , indefinable, with no direct source for him to attack.

"I don't know." Cassian's voice trembles, too, and he has his arms wrapped around himself again. "I don't _know_ , or I would _fix_ it."

Reaching out tentatively, K-2 puts his arm across Cassian's shoulders. It takes a little bit of pressure, but he's able to pull Cassian in against his side. For three, four, five seconds Cassian is tense; then he relaxes, his respiration and heart-rate dropping to a far calmer pace. K-2's fingers tighten where he is holding Cassian's shoulder. "You still enjoy physical contact? You still find it comforting?"

After a moment Cassian nods, the movement looking odd from K-2's angle.

"But you no longer seek it out as you did before. Why?" The question is asked quietly, as though K-2 were younger, still sorting through his new code and trying to understand both it and the man who created him.

"It doesn't... feel right anymore." A small shudder runs through Cassian's body, invisible but something that K-2 can feel. "Because I use physical contact on my missions. With my targets. With my contacts. I _use_ it, to put people at ease, to make it... to make it easier to do what I need to do to them."

"But you would not hurt your allies." K-2 speaks with surety.

Cassian's head drops, his shoulders hunching in.

"You... have hurt your allies?" K-2 resists the urge to pull Cassian closer to him, knowing that if he exerts too much pressure on the human it will be painful rather than comforting. What has happened on missions that K-2 wasn't involved in, or when K-2 was being used for ridiculously boring tasks like guarding ships?

"I killed a rebel prisoner so that Emilia wouldn't use him in her experiments. And one of my contacts—our position was compromised, I couldn't get us both out—and there was a prisoner—" Cassian cuts off the steadily more mangled flow of words, and the trembling is visible now. After a few deep breaths his voice is almost normal again, though. "I complete my missions. I do what's necessary."

"Even when it causes you distress." K-2 thinks, perhaps, choice is not always a blessing. When he followed his Imperial programming, there could be no distress from obeying orders; now that he has options, he has never had to willfully choose one that would be hard to live with.

Except... perhaps that's not true. Sometimes what Cassian asks him to do— _needs_ him to do—is to destroy the coding integrity of other droids and AI systems. K-2 doesn't like it, and tries his best to put the incidents from his memory as soon as he can, but each time it bothers him.

"It _shouldn't_." Cassian rubs one hand over his face. "I chose this. It's for a good cause. I'm only ordered to do things— _allowed_ to do things, because they don't always order me, sometimes it's what I have to do on the spur of the moment—because it's _necessary_. Because if we don't take down the Empire, worse things will happen."

"But it still causes you distress." K-2SO continues to hold the human close to him. "It still makes the physical contact painful. Is it also the reason you have ceased your romantic and sexual interactions with your peers?"

A tired laugh is Cassian's first response, going on for so long that K-2 almost starts to worry. Then Cassian looks up at him, and his smile is beautiful. "I thought only medical droids were supposed to be interested in that type of information."

"I am concerned about possible malfunctions. And since it seemed, before, that the romances and associated physical interactions made you happy..."

"It did. But now... it's all tangled up in the job, too." Cassian looks down at his hands and gives his head a little shake. "Besides, I'm not exactly a good romantic partner. I'm gone more often than I'm here, and I think I see you more than I do anyone other than Draven."

K-2 considers the information. "And I suppose that I would not be a suitable romantic partner?"

"I—you—but—" Cassian's expression as he sputters is almost comical.

_Should_ be comical, K-2 thinks, except he feels a faint dulling of the power pulsing through his circuits. He corrects it immediately, of course, but he doesn't quite understand what caused it.

Cassian collects himself, looking up at K-2 speculatively. "Do you even feel romantic attraction?"

"I don't know. I have never gotten a suitable non-organic answer to what romantic attraction is." K-2 flicks the fingers of his free right hand. "From what you have said, perhaps? I enjoy spending time with you. I feel concern for you. And I much prefer imagining a future with you in it than one without."

Cassian's smile flickers a bit with sadness at K-2's last addendum, though it returns to its usual soft glow as Cassian pats K-2's leg. "That could all just be friendship, you know. We are, I like to think, friends."

"Yes." K-2 wouldn't have chosen that word, himself, but he supposes it encapsulates what their relationship has been. "But if you need something else, and I can provide it—"

Cassian is shaking his head vehemently. "I don't want you doing something like that for _me_. If you're going to be romantically involved with someone, it should be because _you_ want it. Because all the parties involved want it."

"I want you to be happy. I want you to have whatever it is you need. Be that touch or companionship or sexual intercourse." K-2 hesitates, then plunges on. "You haven't had sexual intercourse with another rebel, to my knowledge, since Kinali ceased to be your partner. And it is not because others haven't offered."

"Of course they've offered. I'm handsome." There's a bitterness to Cassian's voice as he reaches up to touch his face. "And I'm talented. Just watch how quickly I've been rising through the ranks."

K-2 wonders, briefly, if that is part of the problem—if Cassian resents that he is being given promotions for completing tasks that he finds morally dubious. Perhaps K-2 will have to put in a suggestion to command to change their tactics in that regard. "I could provide you with a sexual partner, too, if you wanted."

Cassian grimaces. "I know some people use droids for that, but I'm not one of them."

"You would dismiss the idea out of hand?" K-2 hadn't been expecting that, and he blurts out the next question without thought. "Why?"

"Because I've never liked people who used droids like that. Most conscientious sentients don't. It's not... you guys are considered property. And you don't..." Cassian gives K-2 a considering look. "Do you even know how sex works?"

"It isn't a difficult concept, and I could download data tracts if needed. As you pointed out, there are droids that are used for that purpose." K-2's tone is dry.

"And would you get anything out of it?" Cassian pulls a little bit away, but it's just so he can more easily look up and meet K-2's optics. "Would it be something for _you_ , or something for _me_?"

K-2 looks down into Cassian's eyes and considers lying. If it would give Cassian relief... but he doesn't lie to Cassian. (Not that he _can_ lie, but he certainly doesn't even _try_ where Cassian's concerned.) "It's something I would learn and perform for your benefit. But if it _would_ benefit you, it would please me."

"I appreciate it. More than words can say." Cassian takes K-2's hand in his. "But right now... I don't think it would solve my issues. But your friendship... your presence... if you want to continue to offer it... that has and I think always will be precious to me."

"You are probably the only organic I would go to this much trouble for or propose such unorthodox solutions for, Cassian." K-2 gently strokes his hand over Cassian's hair.

Cassian swallows, expression uncertain. Then he puts his arms as far around K-2's chassis as he can, giving K-2 a hug.

After a few seconds Cassian pulls away, running a hand through his hair. Not that it needs settling—he usually has it short enough to make much care unnecessary. "I've really been worrying you?"

"You've been acting quite strangely. Even by normal human standards."

"I can..." Cassian gives a quiet sigh. "I can try getting more contact time with people, if it would make you feel better."

"It would. I think it would make _you_ feel better." K-2 gives Cassian's shoulder a poke. "And if you don't wish to speak to the medics about your concerns, there are others in your division. Melshi. Tonc. R—"

"I know." Cassian smiles. "You don't need to name them all. And maybe... maybe it would be good to talk to some of them. I'll think about it." Standing, once more claiming and half-hiding the towel, Cassian nods towards the shuttle door. "We should both make sure we haven't been missed, though."

It's Cassian's way of saying that he doesn't want to discuss issues anymore, that he needs time to process what they've discussed before moving forward.

Loping after his human, K-2 hopes that the processing will result in positive changes, because he's not sure what else he can do or offer.

XXX

Even with other intelligence agents, other people who have participated in espionage and sabotage and assassination, it's hard to talk about things.

The nice thing about spending more time with the people in his division, whether they're older or younger than him, is that he doesn't usually _have_ to talk about what's happened. If he comes back from a mission grim and glum and flinching from touch, they don't ask questions. They just make sure he eats, and sometimes get him drunk, and always ensure that he's presentable for the medics whenever they get a chance to worry about him. Cassian does the same for them, in return, and slowly things fall into a new kind of status quo.

It doesn't make the things he does less terrible. It doesn't make him less of a killer and a monster. But he's doing it for the right reasons—they're all doing it for the right reasons.

And maybe, if they can stay alive and keep doing it for long enough, they'll actually manage to make something good come out of all the horror they've seen and inflicted.

XXX

Cassian improves after their conversation.

He never returns to the young man that he had been when K-2 first saw him. He seems to age faster than he should, managing to take on Imperial personae a good decade older than he actually is. He never quite has the easy smile and physicality that he had originally, but he _does_ smile, and he _does_ allow himself the physical contact that seems to comfort him.

He makes friends again—mainly with others who undertake similar jobs, occasionally with some of the X-wing pilots and others who risk life and limb on a regular basis. (He lets Kinali close again, though they are never so close as they had been before the mission that first injured Cassian so badly.)

He spends a great deal of time with K-2SO. He includes K-2SO in the physicality that he shows to other organics, touching him more than is necessary. K-2 doesn't mind, just like he doesn't mind the extra time with Cassian. Sometimes he worries, if Cassian falls asleep on the floor of one of the maintenance bays instead of in a bed, but usually it's just nice to have time with Cassian that doesn't involve either travel or a mission.

Things have reached a tentative equilibrium, an acceptable balance that K-2SO thinks everyone can live with.

And then Draven assigns Jyn Erso to them, gives Cassian questionable orders directly after Cassian has had to make terrible decisions about whether the information or his contact was more important, and everything slides into free-fall chaos again.

XXX

Cassian leans against Jyn as the lift descends toward Scarif's sandy ground.

Everything hurts. He hasn't been in this much agony in... well, in a long time. And the last time he was, K-2—

_K-2_.

He shouldn't bother. It's going to be a miracle if they survive this as it is—a miracle if they've succeeded, but Cassian has to hold on to that hope. Hope is the stuff the rebellion is based on, after all. Still, for the Imperials to have gotten past K-2, he must be very badly damaged if not destroyed utterly.

If he's not, though... if there's a chance that some of his memories and processing circuits have survived...

"Jyn." Cassian's voice is hoarse as he raises his head to study the young woman who's changed everything. "I'd like... if we could... K-2..." He has to get his thoughts ordered, to control his breathing better so that he can actually explain what he's asking for. "Can we check on K-2?"

Jyn's expression flickers, her eyes straying to where Cassian's stolen uniform is bloody and charred. "You know he's probably dead?"

"Yes." Cassian's voice cracks on the affirmation. "But if... we could check..."

She doesn't answer him in words. She just stops the lift, half-helping, half-dragging Cassian towards where they had last seen K-2SO.

Bodies litter the room, a combination of death and the acrid stench of blaster bolts and fried circuitry providing an awful odor. Slumped behind the data access terminal is the body of an Imperial enforcer droid.

Cassian drops to his knees by his friend. He doesn't cry—his body is in shock, and besides, he never cries until a mission's completed. When it's over, when everything's done, when he has a chance to look back on what he had to do, _then_ he can. Then K-2 can find him, and ask him what's wrong, and they can—

His hands have been moving, thankfully, doing the job that his brain is too shaky to manage. The damage to K-2's chassis is extensive; the shorts and burns in his circuitry even more so. But the chips that Cassian wants, the data caches that hopefully still hold _K-2_...

They haven't been obviously destroyed, so Cassian slips them into his uniform like he would information Draven had sent him after. Like the information that finishes a mission, the data chips seem to burn against him. Or perhaps that's just his broken ribs shifting.

Jyn has to help him to his feet. She doesn't say anything, just brushes her fingers across his brow, through his hair, and then they're moving again.

To death?

To escape?

To hope, Cassian decides, and that lets him put one foot in front of the other even when the world starts tunneling out towards black.

XXX

The first thing K-2SO sees when he wakes is Cassian's bruised, too-thin face.

He doesn't think that should be possible. He was _imagining_ scenarios where Cassian survived, but he was quite certain the probability of any of them coming to fruition was zero. "Cassian? You are... alive?"

Cassian smiles, and it's one of the brightest, silliest expressions K-2 has seen on the human's face in a very long time. "Kaytoo. You're... you're intact?"

"I am..." Kaytoo rifles through his memory banks, pausing as he finds damaged pieces. He has to do the same as he studies his processing code, running the risk of setting himself up for catastrophic failure if he pursues certain lines of thought. "Damaged, but not seemingly beyond repair. Yourself?"

"I..." Cassian laughs, and it's only partly mirth in the sound. "That's a good synopsis."

Kaytoo very carefully levers himself into a sitting position, avoiding using the right side of his body more than necessary. The code allowing him to control that portion of his being is one of the damaged bits. "Where are we?"

"New rebel base. Yavin was discovered." Cassian moves his seat a little away from the table where he had been working on K-2.

"We made it off Scarif, then." K-2 looks down at his hands, which don't seem quite... right. "Either that or the Jedi are wrong and droids _can_ become one with the Force when they die."

"We're not dead. We _should_ be. By all rights all of us should be. But we made it." Cassian looks down at his hands. "Or... you and me, Jyn, Bodhi, Baze, Chirrut... a handful of others... _some_ of us made it."

"For anyone to survive the mission was a miracle." K-2 speaks quietly, knowing from Cassian's hunched-over posture and blank expression that many of his friends were among the casualties. "Everyone knew that when we volunteered. Did we succeed, at least?"

"We did." Cassian gives a jerky nod, his head rising again so that he can look at K-2. "But not... not fast enough. They destroyed Alderaan. No warning. No evacuation. Just... destroyed a whole planet, like they did with the Holy City."

The news doesn't surprise K-2. One doesn't build a weapon to destroy planets and then not use it. "But afterwards...?"

"There's this new X-wing pilot from a backwater world. Claims that the Force guided him." Cassian shakes his head. "It was an impossible shot, but he made it. He destroyed the Death Star."

"Good. Then we can—" K-2 pauses, looking more closely at his arms, his legs, his hands. Even with his memory banks somewhat scrambled, he can recall enough to know that there is something wrong. Damage that should be there isn't; damage that _shouldn't_ be there is. Jerking back is a useless move, because the body that is _not_ his but _is_ his just moves along with his optical processors, but K-2 can't help doing it. "Cassian, what is—this isn't—"

Cassian's hands are wrapped around K-2's left arm, holding tight. "I couldn't get your body off Scarif. I couldn't get _myself_ off Scarif—Jyn had to help me. And even if I had, it was so badly damaged—but I thought, if I could bring back the parts that are _you—_ "

"This is the shell of another Imperial enforcer droid." K-2 sends his consciousness surging along all the circuits that he dares, looking for... what? The previous owner of the body?

"He was never reprogrammed." Cassian continues to hold on to K-2's arm. "The others—Jyn and Bodhi and the Guardians—they agreed to help me. It was the best I could think to do."

It's theft. It's murder.

It's a way for K-2 to survive, to stay with Cassian.

It's _done_ , and what is K-2 supposed to say? That he wouldn't have wanted this? That Cassian should instead have attempted to reprogram the owner of this body? K-2 wants to continue to exist—to _live_.

"My code needs patching." K-2 leans towards his human, touching Cassian's shoulder lightly. "Will you see to it?"

Cassian relaxes, his death-grip on K-2 fading. "I'll do the best that I can. If I need help, do you mind me asking for it?"

"I'm not foolish enough to demand you act outside your comfort zone. Both of our lives will probably depend on me being able to perform optimally in the field." K-2 looks around, belatedly surprised to have no one else present. "Are the others not around?"

"The rest of Rogue One?" Cassian is already busy hooking K-2 up to diagnostics. "They're on base, but I... I wanted to be alone the first time I tried booting you up."

In case K-2 hadn't woken properly? In case K-2 _had_ woken, but had no longer been K-2?

Reaching out to touch Cassian again, K-2 relishes his still-spotty sensory input. "Thank you. For rescuing me."

Cassian shrugs, though he also looks pleased. "I owe you my life a few times over. Just repaying the favor."

They're quiet after that, exchanging only the information needed to repair and strengthen K-2's code, but it's the silence of long-familiar camaraderie, and K-2 hopes Cassian finds it as comfortable and comforting as K-2 does.

XXX

Everything is different, and yet most things are still the same.

Cassian is given a medal along with the other survivors of the Scarif operation. He's also busted down to lieutenant, which is fair. He deliberately disobeyed orders and encouraged others to do the same, stealing rebellion equipment in the process... and his truthful answers to the inquiry board had likely made it clear that he'll do the same again in the future, if he thinks it needs to be done.

He is a killer. He is a betrayer.

But he can still, maybe, manage to be a good man. He can decide that his orders are wrong. He can decide that _he_ will give everything for the Rebellion, but he will not longer demand the same of others. When it's _offered_ , he will take it, but he won't sacrifice those who don't have a choice.

He doesn't know exactly how that's going to work in practice. What will he do the next time he ends up in a situation like he did with Tivik? But in some situations... if he had worked _with_ Jyn, to extract Galen, how differently could things have turned out?

They'll never know, and thankfully Jyn seems to have forgiven him. Jyn, Bodhi, Chirrut, Baze... Cassian doesn't know exactly what he did to earn their friendship, but they all extend it, and he holds tight to it as he works to determine who and what he's going to be in the aftermath of Scarif.

As he works to save the droid who is his closest friend, and perhaps he's already betrayed his determination to be a better man. Should he have tried to build K-2SO a different body? Should he have attempted to steal an enforcer droid body that hadn't been programmed yet? Just getting his hands on a functional Imperial enforcer droid had been so difficult...

K-2 isn't always comfortable in his new body. Cassian can see it in the way he moves, the way he studies his form. The droid never lets any words of blame slip forth, though, and eventually he seems to settle, his new form moving with the same loping grace of his old one.

Things settle into a new sort of normalcy. Cassian is still sent on his own missions (though it's clear from the way Draven watches him that he no longer quite trusts Cassian), but he is also sent on missions with the rag-tag team that everyone has taken to calling Rogue One. He _enjoys_ those missions, he finds.

He enjoys spending time with the people who saved his life and, in all honesty, his sanity.

He doesn't know exactly what they see in him or why they stay with him. He doesn't know why Chirrut talks about prisons breaking, or why Baze apparently said he has the face of a friend; he doesn't know why Jyn defends his actions with tooth and nail, or why Bodhi comes to him for advice on where he could fit into the Rebellion.

He just knows that he likes it, and he will hold to it tightly, salving over the loss of so many at Scarif with these tentative new connections.

XXX

K-2SO likes their new companions.

He hadn't expected to. He has little patience for most organics aside from Cassian. Jyn has proven both her resourcefulness and her willingness to engage with K-2 as a fellow sentient, though—K-2 will never forget the moment on Scarif when she handed him a blaster. Chirrut has a delightful sense of humor, a way of playing with words that K-2 approves of; Baze tends to the quiet and dangerous side, but he will also say things that make Cassian startle and smile, so K-2 finds him acceptable.

Bodhi... K-2 supposes that Bodhi and he are alike, in some ways. They were both Imperial pawns until new information allowed them to see beyond what the Empire desired them to. They have done different things with the knowledge gained, K-2 supposes—Bodhi has done everything he can to keep people from being hurt and to assist the rebellion, to prevent people from being hurt, whereas K-2...

K-2 has given everything to the rebellion, too, he supposes. But he has given it more reluctantly, more _carefully_ , and he has done so with a very personal stake in the success or failure of the rebellion. (If the rebellion fails, Cassian is dead. He _could_ become something else, K-2 supposes, as Baze has become something else, but Cassian's sense of identity and purpose and _life_ is tied too tightly into the rebellion for K-2 to think it's really possible. If the hope of liberation from the Empire is ever truly snuffed out, Cassian will be one of the ones who falls guarding it to his last breath.)

Cassian likes their new companions, too. K-2 knew that Cassian liked Jyn even before they went to Scarif. Cassian was tactile with Jyn in a way that he usually only is with contacts and those few people he admits as friends. K-2 had even speculated that perhaps, if they survived, Cassian and Jyn would become romantically involved.

That doesn't seem to be happening, mainly because Jyn seems to be in the process of courting Leia Organa, the up-and-coming rebel leader from Alderaan who shares a similar fire and flare. The connection between Jyn and Leia seems to be helpful for Rogue One, and it doesn't seem to detract from Jyn's fierce determination to protect Cassian and Bodhi and the others, so K-2 supposes it's a good thing.

Chirrut and Baze are quite clearly dedicated to each other, though they both extend friendship and companionship to Cassian that K-2 thinks his human desperately needs.

Bodhi, on the other hand... Bodhi seems to be getting quite close to Cassian. He seems to return Cassian's gestures of physical affection; he seems to find talking with Cassian—or talking _at_ Cassian, as sometimes happens, Cassian just sitting and listening—comforting; he has a tendency to smile when he sees Cassian approaching.

It's not proof that there is or could be something romantic there, of course. K-2SO still isn't sure he _knows_ what romance is. But if it is...

Perhaps K-2 can't provide everything that Cassian would need or want in a romantic partner, but maybe he can help Cassian find it in other people.

XXX

Bodhi asks to have dinner alone with Cassian.

It's an unusual request. Often whoever is on base from the team will eat together. Several different reasons for the request, some good and some bad, occur to Cassian. He resists the urge to look into the matter beforehand, though—he trusts his team, and if Bodhi has something planned, Cassian isn't going to ruin the surprise. (And if he _doesn't_ have something planned, Cassian will be sure not to allow any disappointment to show on his face.)

Bodhi hadn't suggested a dress code, so Cassian just wears his rebel uniform. He could have found something else, but without knowing the context he doesn't want to guess incorrectly and embarrass either of them.

The room Bodhi manages to acquire is small but private, and Cassian knows how difficult that is on the cramped-for-space rebel bases. Two chairs have been set next to a small table, across from each other. There aren't any candles or flowers or shells or other objects that shouldn't be present, though.

Small food dishes are arranged in the center of the table, some of which Cassian recognizes—rice, bread—and some of which he doesn't.

"Hi." Bodhi straightens from where he was turning one of the bowls around, showing a different side of the smooth black surface. "I mean, welcome. I mean—would you like to sit down?"

Cassian resists the urge to smile, instead giving a grave nod and settling into the chair nearest him. "Thanks for the invitation."

"Thanks for accepting it." Apparently deciding he's made the arrangements as aesthetically pleasing as he can, Bodhi settles into his own chair. "Is tea all right? I can get caf or water or something else if you'd like, but the tea tends to go well with the other flavors, so—"

"Tea's fine." Cassian often doesn't get to be particular about his food preferences, eating either what the rebellion has or what's on offer at the Imperial bases he's infiltrating.

Bodhi pours tea into two standard-issue rebellion mugs, the warm liquid wafting up a tangy odor.

Taking his mug in hand, Cassian inhales the scent, tests the temperature, and takes a tentative sip. "This is good! I don't think I've had it before."

"Probably not." Bodhi ducks his head, stray strands of hair that have escaped his ponytail framing his face. "It was from Jedha. Chirrut had a little stash left, and let me have some."

"Ah." Cassian's not sure what else to say. He knows that Bodhi, Chirrut and Baze miss their home. How could they not? Bodhi, especially, since he sometimes seems to blame himself for Jedha's destruction. A part of Cassian can understand—he still misses Fest, on occasion, the language and the food and the culture that should have been his by birth. It's been so long since he actually lived on Fest, though, that he knows it isn't a fair comparison.

Especially since Fest is still there, theoretically. He _could_ return home, and see how much of his parents' culture has survived decades of Imperial occupation. For those whose home was Jedha, that isn't an option.

"Chirrut thinks we'll be able to find something like it, though, if not the exact same thing." Bodhi's head comes up, and he's smiling hesitantly. "Just like we've been able to reproduce some of the foods. It helps that Jedha always had a lot of trade—the desert wasn't exactly conducive to massive amounts of agriculture. So things that were Jedhan weren't often _strictly_ Jedhan, or came to Jedha and got mixed around."

Cassian studies the meal set out before him again. "This is all food from your home-world?"

"My best attempt at, yeah." Bodhi ducks his head again, fingers toying with his mug. "I hope you don't mind. I just... thought it might be nicer than standard cafeteria fare."

"I'm happy to try anything, and having some variety is definitely appreciated." Cassian reaches for a slice of dark bread and then hesitates. "Are there rules of etiquette?"

"Not that I'm going to make you stick to." Bodhi smiles. "Besides, a lot of them don't apply. There aren't any elders to offer food to first, and with just the two of us I think we can manage to be equitable and ensure everyone gets to eat their fill. Just take what you'd like, and I'll do the same."

After a moment's contemplation Cassian begins sampling a little bit of everything. Some things he finds more appealing than others—though he's never disliked spicy food, there's a certain grainy spice that he finds not to his liking in a few of the dishes—but it's definitely better than plain rations. Bodhi talks about the different dishes while they eat, filling Cassian in on their history as well as how he had managed to recreate them given their limited resources. Cassian doesn't have to say much, Bodhi speaking with the fast energy that means he's nervous.

When they've both had their fill Bodhi finally seems to run out of things to say, sitting with his hands clasped together above his plate. He watches Cassian with wide, bright eyes.

"Thank you." Cassian smiles warmly at his friend, hoping to put Bodhi a little more at ease. "This was wonderful."

Bodhi's smile is as bright as a nova. "I'm so happy you liked it. Thank you for agreeing to come."

"Anytime." Cassian picks up his mug again, swirling the bit of tea left in the bottom. "Though I'll admit to being curious why you wanted it to be _just_ us."

The smile vanishes from Bodhi's face, replaced once more by nervous earnestness. "I... well... the idea came to me after I had a rather... interesting conversation with K-2SO."

"Oh no." Cassian sighs, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"But you don't even know what we talked about yet." Bodhi blinks in surprise.

"It doesn't matter. If it involved K-2 and led to this, there's probably something I should apologize for that happened." Cassian smiles as he sets his mug down again after taking a small sip. "Or that _he_ should apologize for, but that's not going to happen."

"It actually... it was a little bit of a strange conversation, but it wasn't bad. I think... I understand both him and you a bit better now." There's a fondness to Bodhi's smile, a softness to his gaze, that makes Cassian's heart beat just a bit faster in his chest. "Though I will admit it was strange having a droid march up and ask me if I found human males romantically or sexually attractive, assuming I knew the difference between the two."

Cassian's glad he wasn't drinking, because he's pretty sure he would have choked.

From the way Bodhi's smiling, the pilot recognizes this. A mischievous glint that Cassian gets to see far too infrequently appears in his eyes. "The answers, if you're curious, were yes, yes, and as much as anyone does, I suppose."

"Definitely sounds like an interesting conversation." Cassian looks down at his plate, feeling the way his accent thickens. When did he start doing that again—letting his Basic slip when things start getting emotional? Before Scarif, he thinks, though he's not certain, and Scarif had definitely made it seem... more natural.

"I suppose you've had conversations like that with him before?" Is that tentative hope in Bodhi's eyes, or something else?

It's definitely a request for information, and Cassian fiddles with the last few crumbs on his plate. "I'm sure K-2 told you something about my past romantic encounters if that was the topic of conversation."

"I'd prefer to hear about your past and preferences from you. Assuming it's something you... wouldn't mind talking about." The nervous energy is back in full force, causing Bodhi's talking pace to speed up, his body to move in small ways with each syllable. "I know things have been hard for you, a lot of the time. And if you don't _want_ to talk about it, or you just want to say this was a really nice meal... you're my friend, Cassian."

The words strike Cassian harder than they should. He's just... not used to people calling him their friend anymore. Even when it's been true, most of his friends for the last few years have been like _him_. Monsters yoked to a dream of a better world by the remnants of the humanity the Empire wants to burn out of them all. Even when they _are_ friends and support each other, they don't _say_ it.

"You saved me." Bodhi's gaze drops to the mostly-empty collection of bowls in the center of the table. "On Jedha, you saved me twice. You helped me find _myself_ again, and you... you actually got me onto the shuttle."

Did Cassian do that? He doesn't remember. He remembers telling the Guardians to take Bodhi; he remembers running to get Jyn; he remembers the mad dash back to their only chance of survival. Had he pushed Bodhi towards the shuttle? If he did, it wasn't for altruistic purposes. "You were the messenger. I needed the message."

"I know." Bodhi's voice is remarkably gentle as he raises his eyes to meet Cassian's. "But that's not why you went back for Jyn. That's not what's kept you with the team since then. With me. I like you, Cassian. You're a good friend. You always will be."

Cassian's breath is coming faster, sounding harsher in his throat. He _wants_ to be a better man, a good friend, but it still... feels wrong to hear others say that he is. (And phrases like _always will be_ have no place in their world, still, with the Empire breathing down their necks. _Always_ can be a very short time in the rebellion.)

"I..." Cassian forces his thoughts to return to the questions that had been asked, to something small and less intimidating that he can actually answer. "I've had romances with men and women, but not for... a while."

Bodhi nods. "And... would you be... interested in romance again?"

"I don't know." Cassian answers honestly. "I've... some of my missions... I've done... bad things." It sounds pathetic, phrased like that, and Cassian forces himself to keep talking. "I've used my body. Used the fact that even some Imperials seem to want romance. I..."

"You do your job." Bodhi shrugs. "I was there when you declared what you think you are, Cassian. When you said you've done terrible things. I know you well enough, now, to say that any time you've done terrible things, it's because you thought you had to. I'm not going to hold that against you."

"I might not be a very good romantic partner. Or sexual partner." Cassian speaks quietly.

"But you would be interested in trying? With me?" Bodhi stands, moving slowly towards Cassian.

"I like you. You're handsome, and strong, and a good man." Cassian should probably stand, too, but he's not sure if he trusts his legs to hold him steady. (He wanted this. When Bodhi asked him to dinner alone, he had fantasies of something like this happening. So why is it so terrifying now that it's happening? Why is a part of Cassian so certain this is going to go terribly wrong?)

Bodhi pauses when Cassian says he's strong, looking bemused. The pilot never has accepted that he has a type of strength Cassian wishes more people did—the strength to do what's right even in the face of loss and fear and abuse.

Cassian pushes his chair back from the table, looking up at Bodhi. "I'd be willing to try, if you wanted. But it might... if it doesn't work out... if I can't..."

"We're still Rogue One." Bodhi reaches out, his fingers trailing through Cassian's hair and then his beard, caressing his face. "We're still teammates. We're still friends. If other things don't work out, then that's fine."

Cassian closes his eyes, focusing just on the feel of Bodhi's fingers warm against him. It hadn't taken the members of Rogue One long to determine that Cassian likes being touched, and they all do so regularly when it's possible. Is that why this feels so comforting—why he's able to lean into the contact without hesitation?

Bodhi's other hand reaches out, trailing through Cassian's hair on the other side; a moment later Bodhi's legs are pressing against Cassian's, Bodhi's weight shifting repeatedly.

Opening his eyes again, Cassian smiles. Putting one hand on each of Bodhi's hips, he guides Bodhi down onto his lap, holding the slim man close.

Bodhi's face is flushed, but his eyes are still bright, eager and energetic. "We're going to try, then?"

"If you want to." Cassian brushes some of the stray strands of hair away from Bodhi's face. "Then I'm quite happy to."

Bodhi doesn't answer in words. He just leans forward, pressing his lips to Cassian's in a surprisingly deep kiss. (Maybe Bodhi is already learning how quickly things can change—how swiftly opportunities must be seized if you don't want them to disappear.)

Cassian kisses him back, and for a few minutes they just hold and touch each other.

Eventually Bodhi breaks away, standing and rubbing at his right hip. "Sorry. Hip was starting to go numb."

"It's all right." Cassian gestures at the table. "Probably best we clean this up anyway."

Bodhi nods. "Though we can always do it again. Maybe you could help me make something from your home-world...?"

"Maybe." Cassian smiles as he stands and begins gathering up bowls.

"Unless you don't want to." Bodhi's arm brushes against Cassian's as he assists in cleaning up. "We can do anything, Cassian.

Cassian pauses, a stack of bowls in hand, and smiles at his friend. "You know what, Bodhi? Maybe we actually can."

XXX

K-2SO still doesn't understand human romance and mating rituals terribly well, despite all his study and all the questions he has asked. It doesn't matter, though, because he understands _his_ humans well.

He understands the Guardians, with their diametrical responses to trauma and their stubborn determination to assist others.

He understands even if he can't predict Jyn Erso, a rebel even in the rebellion, who like K-2 himself will protect their team as much as she can.

He understands Bodhi Rook, a man who loves to fly and does what's needed even when his code is overflowing with terror.

And, of course, he understands _his_ human. He understands what it means that Cassian smiles more, and reaches out to initiate physical contact more.

The war isn't over. Defeating the Empire's monstrous weapon has protected worlds, but it's brought the Empire's wrath down more viciously on the rebellion every time they're found. Cassian's job isn't over—he is one of the rebellion's better surviving espionage agents, and between those missions and the Rogue One missions he is frequently busy.

The missions don't seem to weigh on him quite so heavily, though. K-2SO doesn't know how much of that is due to Rogue One in general and how much is due to Bodhi in particular, and he supposes it doesn't matter. "A burden shared is a burden lessened."

Cassian turns to give him a curious look, his full pack balanced easily on his back. "What was that?"

"Something Chirrut said, which caused Baze to look exasperated." K-2 lopes along at his human's side, glad that he's managed to get himself assigned to this mission.

"Sounds about right." A slight smile touches Cassian's mouth as he turns back towards the ship they'll be taking. "Ready to go?"

"Always. I have much less need for preparation, after all, needing neither food nor protection from most elements." After all these years together Cassian should realize this.

Cassian _does_ realize this, K-2 thinks, but he still does K-2 the courtesy of ensuring he's fully prepared. "Let's go, then. The universe isn't going to liberate itself."

It won't, but for the first time in a while, K-2SO thinks perhaps the liberation of the universe isn't going to come at the cost of its saviors' freedom.

It is, he thinks, a much fairer trade this way.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Expansion Theory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11511240) by [Bright_Elen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen/pseuds/Bright_Elen), [misskatieleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh)




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